Hermiones Curse
by imainstigator
Summary: War weary Hermione has been avoiding friends and family for the past year. So why is there a pissed off veela on her doorstep?
1. Chapter 1

One year. That's how long it had been since Voldemort fell. In scientific terms, a year is the period of solar days required for one revolution of the earth around the sun. Hermione no longer thought in scientific terms however. To her it was just another day in hell.

Sighing to herself, she rolled out of bed and stumbled over to the sliding glass door of her balcony, pulling on a pair of boxers and t-shirt along the way. Still bleary with sleep, she squinted one eye and glanced at the clock on the nightstand. 3:41 AM. She knew better than to try to go back to sleep. Sleep was as elusive as the nargles Luna was always on about. Smirking, she stepped out onto the patio, letting the warm ocean breeze soothe her nerves. She was always twitchy when she first woke up. At first she assumed it was because she was always dreaming of Malfoy Manor. When that crazy bitch crucio'd her to hell and back again. Lately though, she knew it was more than that.

She let out a small growl of annoyance before snatching her cigarettes off the patio table. She pulled out a joint and put it up to lips as she heard the sliding glass door open. Turning, she sparked it; inhaling deeply and glancing up at her visitor. She watched the tanned blonde goddess fall into the nearest seat and leaned back against the railing, blowing a cloud of smoke into the breeze. She took another drag before she offered it to the blonde who took a long, slow hit off it while gazing at Hermione, her eyes filled with lust reflecting in the moonlight shining down on them. She just grinned back at the girl, realizing she didn't even remember her name. She was just the latest in her conquests. Something to pass the time with. Dull her senses and keep her mind off her past.

Taking the joint from the girl she turned back to the rail, watching the waves roll in. Hermione glanced down at her throbbing arm, seeing the jagged "mudblood" glaring back up at her, still raw and red. It refused to heal and she kept it hidden under a glamour at all times. She rubbed at it absently, taking another hit to numb the pain. The blonde came up behind her and wrapped her arms around her waist, nibbling the side of her neck. "Why do you keep staring down at your arm?" Hermione sucked in a breath and flinched away from her, her hackles immediately up at having been caught. "I think you should leave now, Maria." The blonde scoffed and pushed away from her. "My name is Jennifer", she all but screeched at Hermione. Wincing at the shrill tone, Hermione shrugged dismissively and several moments later she heard the door to her apartment slam shut.

She collapsed into the recently vacated chair, stamping out the joint in the ashtray before scrubbing her face with her hands. Today was the anniversary of the end of the second Wizarding War. They had been hailed as heroes, but the Golden Girl was as far from golden as she could be. The war had changed everyone, but perhaps the most surprising changes had been in Hermione herself. The girl who once thought that being expelled was the worst thing in the world, had done a 180.

In the days following the end of the war Hermione had struggled to return to normalcy. She tracked down her parents and returned their memories, explaining to them why she had done what she had. They were furious but most of all, hurt beyond belief. They had asked for time; time to come to grips with what she now was and what she had done to them. They were no longer as accepting of her being a witch now they fully realized what she could do with the magic she wielded. War weary and with no place to stay, she had headed to the Leaky Cauldron. Unfortunately, being the Golden Girl did not offer her the privacy she needed to recoup her thoughts. After spending a night drowning her sorrows in firewhiskey, she realized she needed time away. Away from the wizarding world. Away from where every person on every corner knew her name and had an opinion and pre-conceived notion of her. Just away. So she decided to get out and see the world. To go to places where no one knew her and she could be whoever she wanted to be. After a quick owl to Harry and Ron to tell them not to worry and she'd be back when she could, she'd set off. She'd been bouncing around from continent to continent ever since.

Currently, she was renting a condo off Ft. Lauderdale beach and tending bar to make ends meet. She had become the epitome of "party girl". It kept her mind off the things she'd rather not remember. It wasn't the healthiest way of coping, but it wasn't like she could rattle off to a therapist about a wizarding war without being branded a complete nutter and locked away. At least that was one of the many ways she justified it in her mind.

Scratching the back of her neck, she grabbed a cigarette from the packet and lit it, rubbing at her now throbbing temples. All this reminiscing wasn't going to do wonders for her sleep. She flicked the ash off the end of her cigarette and brought it up to her lips as she felt something warm and wet on her arm. Glancing up at the sky she furrowed her brow. Not a cloud to be found. Looking back down, she realized she was bleeding. She dropped her smoke into the ashtray and closed her arm around the letters carved into her arm, her head swimming at the pain it caused.

Groaning, she got up and headed to the bathroom, shoving it under the sink and rinsing it as best she could. As she was trying to decide if she should shower or just bandage it she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Feeling a prickle on the edge of her magic, she realized someone had apparated inside her wards. Just as she was darting to the bedroom to grab her wand, there was a knock at her door.

She dove for her wand before spinning around, a white knuckle grip around it, leveling it at the door. She held her breath and waited, heart pounding in her throat, listening for any movement. She was considering where to disapparate to when the knock came again. Louder this time, more insistent. Eyes wide with fear, she unconsciously took a step back. Her fight or flight instinct had kicked in but her mind was racing so quickly she couldn't decide if she should stay to fight or hightail it out of there. An exasperated huff sounded from the other side of the door and Hermione cocked her head to the side in confusion. " 'ermione Granger, I know you are in zere. Enough of zis nonsense. Open ze door or I will do it myself."

Was that...Fleur Delacour?


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed and followed/favorite this story. It's my first one so any constructive feedback is appreciated. Work calls, so this will be the last update for the weekend. I'm shooting for a minimum of an update a week - hopefully life will be accommodating of such. I know my spelling and grammar leaves much to be desired, so if anyone is interesting in being a beta, shoot me a PM.

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Hermione's heart skipped a beat and time seemed to come to screeching halt. All thought vacated her mind. She barely registered a growl of annoyance coming from the other side of the door and before she realized what she was doing she had yanked the door open.

There in all her pissed off veela glory, stood Fleur Delacour. No…it was Weasely now, she reminded herself. Fleur Weasely. As she looked into Fleurs eyes, slowly registering their angry, golden hue, her brain finally kicked back into gear.

"What are you doing here, Fleur?" she asked, confused and hovering on the edge of annoyance.

"What am _I_ doing here? Non! What ze 'ell are **_YOU_** doing 'ere, 'ermione?!"

Hermione turned and stomped into the living room and snatched up a bottle of Southern Comfort, pouring some into a glass and knocking it back before she addressed the furious blonde, trying and failing to quell her own rising temper.

"I bloody live here. I don't recall inviting you, so I'll ask you once again. What. Are. You. Doing. Here?" Hermione took a deep breath, slowly exhaling in a last ditch effort to control her temper before she really lost it. She had the feeling she was far too sober for the conversation that was about to take place.

Hermione may not have realized it, but she was not alone in her anger. Fleur was struggling to keep her veela at bay. Hermione had always brought out such extreme emotion in her. She never understood it. Right now the blonde was furious at her friends petulant behavior. It had gone on for far too long. She stalked forward, grabbing Hermione's arm and intending to apparate her back to London but Hermione hissed in pain and yanked away from her before she could do so.

Fleur blinked in confusion and glanced down at Hermiones arm and then back up just in time to see a snarl rip across the brunettes features, eyes flashing bright red before they were slammed closed. Fleur glanced around the room, noticing everything shaking slightly before dropping back into place. Eyes wide, she looked back to Hermione who was now moving in the direction of the bedroom, her chest heaving as if she had just run a race, each breath coming out in a labored pant.

Thanks to the bedroom mirror Fleur was able to see Hermione unstopper a potion and swallow it in one gulp, grimacing at what she assumed was the taste. Hermione let out a small shudder before she spun back around to face Fleur, eyes slowly fading back to the brown she was used to seeing, her breathing gradually coming back under control. She barely managed to get out a whispered "Hermione…"

Hermiones eyes squinted in a manner that seemed entirely too predatory as she focused in on Fleur. Truth be told, Fleur was having a hard time reconciling this woman in front of her with the young witch she had nursed back to health at Shell Cottage. She was brought out of her musings by a gravelly "You shouldn't be here, Fleur."

Hermione slowly sauntered forward until she was right in front of Fleur, glaring down at her. Fleur frowned. Since when was she shorter than Hermione? She could feel the heat and anger rolling off the girl in waves. Fleur felt paralyzed in the face of such anger, unsure how she managed to push her friend so far, so fast. Suddenly Fleur felt something against the small of her back and struggled to break away from Hermiones fierce glare, quickly glancing over her shoulder. She had bumped into the counter. Odd, she hadn't even realized she was moving.

Hermione reached out and Fleur whipped her head back around to look back up at the girl before her just before her arms settled on either side of the older witch, caging her in. Oddly enough, her inner veela choosing to submit to the younger witch. Something Fleur had only ever experienced with her Grandmere and Maman. She had no time to question it however, as Hermione leaned further forward, invading her personal space, their chests lightly brushing against each other. Fleur felt the goosebumps erupt across her skin at the brief touch and barely managed to suppress the shiver at the sensation. While she may have missed the slight gasp she let out, Hermione didn't.

Hermione licked her lips and smirked down at Fleur before grabbing the bottle of SoCo and her glass off the counter and spinning on her heel, heading out onto the balcony. She was entirely too aware of Fleur's arousal and needed the fresh air before she did something she'd regret. She took a swig straight from the bottle and then reached out for the joint she had abandoned earlier.

As she was lighting it Fleur made her way out and took the seat across from her. Just as Hermione expected, her posture was perfect and hands clasped regally in her lap. Hermione looked her over and just now realized she was dressed in jeans and a thick sweater. She couldn't hold back the chuckle that forced its way up. Even though the sun wasn't up yet, it was still extremely warm. After all, it was summer in the tropics and at a balmy 85° Fleur had to be melting in that outfit.

Just as Hermione was about to comment on it Fleur scrunched up her face and glared at the joint as if she found its presence to be offensive. Hermione raised an eyebrow in her direction, wondering to herself if Fleur even knew about muggle drugs. Shrugging to herself as she realized she really didn't give a damn now that her buzz was slowly setting in, she let her eyes wander over the blonde veela.

The last time she had seen her had been just after the Battle of Hogwarts. It may have only been a year ago but the blonde seemed different. Thinner. Less sure of herself. Or maybe it was that Hermione had finally become comfortable in her own skin that she no longer found Fleurs confidence overwhelming. Her hair seemed to have lost some of its luster. She had circles under her eyes. Hermione slowly came to the conclusion that she looked…tired.

Regardless, she was still an extremely attractive woman. Long legs, perfect porcelain skin which was currently flushed in the summer heat, and lips just begging to be kissed. Hermione shook her head and dropped the joint before thinking to herself that she may have overindulged just a bit. She assured herself that she did not want to pick up Fleur Delacour-Weasely and haul her off to her bedroom to have her wicked way with her. Hell, her bed was probably still warm from its previous inhabitant. What the hell was wrong with her? Was it the veela thrall? She had never been affected by it before. But then she had never been interested in sex with women before either. She wasn't a lesbian by any means. To her sex was sex. Female, male…as long as she got off she didn't care.

Hermione finally realized Fleur was snapping her fingers in front of her face. Had she been talking to her? She mumbled out a "What? Did you say something?"

Hermione blinked slowly and finally looked up at Fleur with glassy eyes. Fleur briefly wondered if it was the drink or that awful smelling cigarette she had been puffing on. She obviously hadn't heard a word that she said. Fleur sighed and rubbed her forehead. Perhaps this was a mistake. She was exhausted from a transcontinental apparition and Merlins beard why did that cigarette smell so horrid? "What is in that blasted cigarette? Dragon piss? It smells dreadful!"

Hermione began laughing then. Harder than the older witch had ever seen her laugh before. She was bent over holding her stomach and tears were threatening to spill over. Fleur couldn't help but smile in return. She wasn't sure what was so funny, but she had never seen Hermione like this before.

"Christ, Fleur. You really need to learn more about muggles and their means of…ugh, nevermind, that." Hermione calmed herself and wiped at her eyes, her annoyance at having her safe haven intruded on coming to the forefront once again. "You still haven't answered my question, Fleur. Why the hell are you here?"

Fleur glanced out at the ocean, steeling herself for what she had to say to the woman in front of her. She knew it wouldn't be well received. She took a deep breath and muttered softly "We've been looking for you for awhile now. Not long after you left there was a submission to the Hall of Prophecies."

Hermione scowled over at Fleur, her inebriated mind struggling to race through the possibilities this little tidbit of information would have on her. How bad could it be? Voldemort was good and dead, after all. "I'll not come back to another shit storm, Fleur. The Golden Trio is no more. I love Harry and Ron like they're my own brothers, but Harry is on his own for this one."

Fleur ran a nervous hand through her hair before locking eyes with Hermione. "You misunderstand me, 'ermione." Her nervousness was making her accent more pronounced than it usually was now, a fact not entirely lost on Hermione. "Ze prophecy is not about 'arry. Eets about you, 'ermione. Only you can retrieve eet, non?"


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: So Fleur's veela is going to be coming into play a bit more from here on out so to make things easier it will be depicted as:

 _ **Fleurs veelas thoughts.**_

 _Fleurs thoughts to her veela._

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Hermione stared blankly at Fleur for several long seconds before slightly shaking her head and stating "Care to run that by me again? I could have sworn you said there was a prophecy with my name on it. " Her temper was starting to flare again and she stood abruptly, wrapping her hands around the balcony railing hard enough to hear the metal groan in protest.

Fleur had mumbled out something behind her that she didn't quite catch and Hermione felt the last of her patience crack away. She whirled around and growled out "Stop your damned mumbling, Fleur. You've shown up on my doorstep, uninvited, in the middle of the night no less! Obviously you've something to say, so out with it already."

Fleur had a hundred different snarky retorts just waiting to roll off the tip of her tongue but her inner veela bit them all back. Her jaw audibly snapped shut as she underwent an inner struggle for control.

 _ **Hold your tongue.**_

 _I am Fleur Delacour. Next in line for head of the Delacour coven. She has NO right to speak to me… to US like this._ Fleur was practically shouting at her veela, demanding to stand her ground.

 _ **We will submit. There will be no further discussion.**_

 _The hell there…_ _ **SUBMIT!**_

Hermione watched as Fleur dropped her head, her shoulders tense but her hands palm up on either arm of the chair. Oddly, it had a mildly placating effect on her and she turned back around, taking a deep breath of the salt air to soothe her nerves. "Fuck prophecy. Fuck destiny. Fuck it all to hell." She spent several minutes staring out at the horizon and she noted that the first rays of light were starting to cut through the inky blackness of night.

She slowly turned back to face Fleur, noting that she hadn't moved from her previous position. "Why did you come, Fleur? Why not Harry or Ron or someone from the Order?"

Fleur chanced a glance up and when her veela offered no resistance she relaxed, albeit slightly. "I'm not entirely sure. I felt like I had to. The others may not even be aware that I've left yet. I left a note for Harry. Do you have no idea how hard you've been to find, Hermione? I understand wanting to get away, but why have you hidden yourself?"

Hermione frowned in contemplation. Hidden herself? Sure, she'd bounced around a lot, but it wasn't like she'd put up blocking charms to keep from being tracked magically. She absentmindedly rubbed at her arm, trying to soothe the itching sting. As she glanced down at it she noticed that Fleur wasn't wearing her wedding ring. For some reason she was pleased by this, but refused to delve further into the feeling as there were more pressing matters at hand. "I haven't been hiding. I've moved around a bit, but I haven't made a single attempt to hide myself. A simple tracking spell should have pinpointed my location."

Fleur raised an elegantly sculpted eyebrow and looked Hermione over from head to toe. She had no reason to lie to her, Fleur reasoned. "We tried every tracking spell we knew and then began researching ways to enhance them, thinking distance to be an issue. Nothing worked. If it weren't for my having access to very powerful veela magic, we probably never would have found you."

"Veela magic?" Hermione questioned. "I'm not veela so how was veela magic able to succeed when all else failed?"

Leave it to Hermione to pick up on the intricacies that Fleur would rather neglect. "Oui. Veela magic. I am not at liberty to discuss the nuances. You know how secretive we veela can be."

Hermione huffed and stifled a yawn. As much as she wanted to press the matter, the drink and smoke was taking its toll on her. Without the anger fueled adrenaline coursing through her veins any longer she was quickly finding it hard to keep her eyes open. "Whatever. I'm knackered and need to get some sleep before work this afternoon. You're welcome to make yourself comfortable until you can disaparrate back home." Hermione hauled herself to her feet and took a step towards the door but Fleur jumped up and placed herself in her path.

" 'Ermione!" Fleur spluttered. "Work? We need to go to the Ministry and retrieve this prophecy. You can't seriously be considering ignoring it!"

"Actually that is precisely what I'm doing. I meant what I said earlier. Fuck the prophecy. I've had enough with prophecies to last my next three lifetimes. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a date with my bed."

Fleur crossed her arms over her chest and glared up at the girl in front of her.

"Fleur…"

" 'Ermione…"

Hermione sighed in exasperation before continuing forward, her face twisting up into a cocky grin. Her forward procession was forcing Fleur to backpedal until her back met the glass of the door. When her body was flush up against Fleur,with the smaller witches hands pressed up against her abdomen, Hermione leaned down and ran her nose across Fleurs jaw before huskily whispering in her ear "Fleur, if you wanted to join me in bed, you only had to ask. No need for the theatrics."

Fleurs eyes went wide in surprise at the boldness of the younger witch and she suppressed a shiver at the sensation of the hot, damp breath and featherlight touch of lips against the shell of her ear. She was used to shy, prudish little Hermione Granger. Her brain was having a hard time reconciling her memory with the confident display of sexuality in front of her. "I wasn't….I mean I didn't…."

Before Fleur could formulate a coherent reply, Hermiones hands were on her hips, yanking her forward and closing what distance was still left between them. Her breath hitched and she instinctually moved her hands to the taller girls shoulders, bracing herself. The next thing she knew, she was sliding up Hermiones body and thrown unceremoniously over her shoulder. She let out a very undignified squeak of shock but before she could voice her complaint Hermione opened the door and began walking leaving Fleur with a nice view of the girls backside, thoroughly distracting her.

When Hermione reached her destination, she tossed Fleur onto the bed and proceeded to kick off her shorts and crawl up Fleurs body, that same devilish smirk on her face as she watched Fleur attempt to reign in her lust. Hermione had barely touched her and already she could smell the veela's arousal. When her head was finally level with the blondes, she leaned their foreheads together and stared into the bluest eyes she had ever gazed into. She chuckled as she noticed Fleurs irregular breathing and blown pupils. She ran her hands up Fleurs sides before sitting up, straddling the girl beneath her and slowly pulling her shirt over head and tossing it onto the floor carelessly.

Hermione bit her bottom lip and slowly let it slide out from between her teeth. Running on pure instinct, Fleur leaned up and began nibbling Hermione's neck while dragging her nails down the surprisingly dominant girls back. An impish grin broke out across Hermione's face and she pushed the veela back down against the bed and proceeded to wink at her before she fell to her side and rolled over, cuddling up to her pillow. Fleur, blinked in shock. Once, twice, three times. " 'Ermione! What ze bloody 'ell are you doing?!"

She glanced at Fleur over her shoulder giving her the most innocent look she could muster up. "Exactly what I said I was going to do Mrs. Weasley. Going to sleep."

Fleur was completely beside herself. She'd never been denied before. Ever. Well if that's how she wanted it, two could play that game. Fleur released the hold on her thrall and pushed it out around her, trying to overwhelm the little tease with the powerful pheromones. Grinning to herself, she rolled onto her side, waiting for the thrall to work its magic and wanting to see the look on the little minxes face when it hit her.

Hermione began to snore softly, almost imperceptibly. If not for her heightened hearing Fleur probably wouldn't have even noticed it. Just as her jaw dropped in shock Fleur's thrall rebounded back into her, causing her thighs to clamp together as her core began to throb. She flopped back onto the bed, throwing her arm over her face and groaned to herself. It was going to be a long day… and she didn't even have a clean pair of panties.


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione was flying high above a battlefield. Even at this elevated distance the stench of blood, entrails and death was overpowering in her sensitive nostrils. She scanned the ground below looking for any sign of her quarry. She noticed movement by the lakes edge and dove down, her giant wings stretching out to their fullest potential to cushion her landing. She pressed her belly low to the ground and slowly stalked forward, ears flat against her skull and nose raised slightly trying to catch a whiff of whatever it was she had seen. She huffed slightly in irritation that she could only pick up the scents of blood and decay. As she reached the edge of the tall grass and peered closely at the now visible prey and realized it was nothing more than a fox patronus guarding its dead wizard. Just as the silvery creature began to fade it turned its face up to the sky and let out a mournful howl before blinking out of existence.

Padding forward, she glanced down at the deceased wizard. She was staring into the familiar eyes of Seamus Finnigan. His throat had been ripped out and deep slashes crisscrossed his chest; his hand still wrapped tightly around his wand, even in death.

Hermione woke with a start, heart hammering away in her chest and sweat dripping down her neck. She leapt up and bolted for the bathroom, barely making it in time before the bile made its way up her throat. Once her stomach was finally empty she stood and dunked her hands under the sink, bringing the water up to her mouth to rinse out the vile taste that was lingering. She splashed the cool water over her face and mentally chastised herself for forgetting to take a dreamless draught before heading to bed. Doing her best to push the revolting image of a dead Seamus out of her mind, she stepped into the shower. She couldn't dwell on the nightmare when she was due into work in a few hours and if she was honest with herself, she didn't have the intestinal fortitude to try regardless of her work schedule. She had seen enough death to know dwelling on it didn't do anything but lead to more nightmares.

She took her time in the shower, letting the hot water work the tension out of her muscles. Her thoughts drifted back to the events of the previous night. So much had happened in the past year and Fleur's unexpected arrival was a stark reminder of that. She wasn't naive enough to believe she was the only one that had changed over the past year. The lack of a wedding ring on Fleur's finger was evidence enough of that but when she mulled it over she doubted that the remaining survivors of the war had changed as much as she had.

It's been said that time heals all wounds but most days she felt as if hers were infected. Just like a septic cut, she was messy, uncomfortable in her own skin with the ever present pain lingering beneath the feverish surface. It kept her on edge and made her feel unstable. There were days where she couldn't even control her magic. She recalled the first time it had happened, when she had, thankfully, been in a cabin down in Costa Rica with no one around for miles. She had been pensive that day and her unbidden thoughts had once again landed on her time with Bellatrix. As she paced in front of the cabin where she was staying she realized that the entire cabin was destructing and reconstructing itself magically which only amped up the anxiety she was feeling. It had taken her two hours to calm down enough to get the cabin to stay in one piece. It was then she realized she had to stop ignoring what she was feeling and address it in some way, even if it was a roundabout approach.

At first she had tried to do as much magic as possible, attempting to drain her magic core completely. When that didn't work she finally took to brewing potions to bind her magic. It had taken months of trial and error, but she had finally concocted a potion that allowed her to diminish her magic, but not block it entirely. Maybe that was why they'd had such a hard time finding her. Maybe the locator spells were attempting to track her magic and it was too weak of a signal. She'd have to discuss it with Fleur.

When the water began to run cold, Hermione stepped out of the shower and dried herself off before wrapping the towel around herself and heading into the bedroom. Glancing at the clock she realized she had only slept a couple hours. With extra time to spare, she figured she should grab some lunch for herself and Fleur. She quickly brushed her hair and threw on a pair of khaki shorts with a skin tight wife beater and flip flops. As she glanced back at the veela sleeping in her bed she was equal parts aroused and annoyed. She really was gorgeous. Anyone could see that. Beauty and brains…the complete package. If only she wasn't so pretentious. Shrugging away her inner monologue she crept out of the bedroom, careful not to wake the sleeping girl.

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Fleur woke up to an annoyed meow. As soon as she sat up, Crookshanks proceeded to circle around the pillow she had been on before curling up and giving her a look that clearly said "piss off, wench". She headed into the living room, blinking a few times to clear the sleep from her eyes and looked around for Hermione. Glancing out at the patio she realized she had slept the day away and Hermione must have already left for work. She noticed a piece of paper with her name on it and grabbed it off the counter.

Fleur,

There's a sub for you in the fridge. I wasn't sure what you liked so I went with a turkey club. If you feel like coming down to the bar before you head home, I've left instructions on how to get there. It's just a few blocks away and you should be able to find it easily. If you do decide to come, I've left some clothes for you on the dresser. You'll sweat your tits off in the outfit you've got on.

Hermione

Fleur sighed to herself as she realized that this was going to be much harder than she had anticipated. One way or another, she had to get Hermione back to London with her. So far this trip had left her with more questions than answers. Even her veela was giving her grief, although if she were honest with herself, that was nothing new. The veela had been pissed off at its human counterpart since she married Bill. It was content to wait for its true mate, while she had wanted a normal, human relationship without all the pretense involved. She had quickly realized that there was no ignoring or silencing that part of herself and when push came to shove, the veela had won. Fleur mentally berated herself for allowing her thoughts to head down such a melancholy path and decided to eat and get ready to meet with Hermione. Somehow, some way she was going to convince the stubborn girl to see reason and face this prophecy head on.

A short time later, Fleur was stood outside the bar that Hermione had told her to meet her at. The door was propped open and it was absolutely packed inside. She'd never seen a pub like this before and felt more than a little out of her element. With a bit of trepidation, she made her way inside and was greeted by a wall of people. All eyes were on the bar and she quickly noticed Hermione and another girl (a coworker if the similar attire was any indication) were dancing on the bar. Both girls were on their knees, legs spread wide, bodies rolling sinfully while they sang along to the song. "I love rock'n roll, so come an take your time and dance with me"

Towards the end of the song Hermione hopped off the bar and made her way towards Fleur, who finally realized she was gaping at the girl like an utter fool. When she was within reach, Hermione grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the bar, weaving between the numerous patrons. Hermione shouted to her over the music "I get off in an hour or so. Drinks are on me, so what'll it be?"

Fleur glanced around and deciding she needed some liquid courage requested a firewhiskey. Hermione shook her head and grabbed a bottle pouring her a hefty portion. As she reached for the glass the girl leaned in and whisper shouted in her ear, "This is a muggle bar. Order Fireball, it's the closest thing to it." Fleur nodded in understanding as the girl turned and began to help her other customers. Fleur settled herself against the bar and was content to observe her friend in awe and if she was honest, a little bit of jealousy.

Hermione, being a muggle-born, seemed completely comfortable in this non-magical world. She laughed and joked with her customers, flirting with some and doing shots with others. Her cheeks were flushed, either from the heat or the booze, Fleur couldn't tell which. Her tank top was damp with perspiration and her hair stuck to her neck in some places. Fleur wanted nothing more than pull her hair to the side and taste that salty flesh, to mark it as hers. Her veela purred in agreement and as Hermione walked over to refill her glass, their eyes met. Despite the loud patrons and even louder music all Fleur heard was her veela proclaim _**"She will be ours. Ours alone."**_

Fleur couldn't agree more.


End file.
